


knew you wouldn't fold

by movement (earthshaker)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Pegging, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthshaker/pseuds/movement
Summary: What kind of feelings do you attach to a boy you made out with at a party, on your own terms? It’s not regret, even if Minghao had broken his self-imposed rules of no frat boys.Maybe it’s anticipation.





	knew you wouldn't fold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [knightspur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/gifts).
  * Inspired by [11/eleven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948102) by [knightspur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightspur/pseuds/knightspur). 



> Now that reveals are up, I find it ironic how I remixed something you gifted me for my birthday. I hope every time you reread this, you love it just a little bit more.  
> For readers: tw with regards to language that may be dysphoric and mentions of recreational drug use

Minghao hates applying the word regret to himself. Personal principles, guiding rules, call it whatever you want; Minghao tries to see the good side of things.  _ Likes  _ seeing the good side of things. 

 

“There’s nothing to regret about a learning experience,” he’d nagged at Seokmin the last time his roommate had thrown up all over the sidewalk, moaning out how much he regretted drinking. 

 

Regret feels like a word that’s too heavy to use for casual situations -- he’s in university and there aren’t that many decisions he  _ can _ make that carry the implications the word has. So when he looks up from his phone and finds Mingyu staring at him, he doesn’t know what to call the feeling writhing in his gut. What kind of feelings do you attach to a boy you made out with at a party, on your own terms? It’s not regret, even if Minghao had broken his self-imposed rules of no frat boys. 

 

He wants to laugh at Mingyu because he looks a bit dumbstruck, and even from afar, Minghao can tell Mingyu is considering sitting next to him. Minghao jerks his head at the seat next to him and the way Mingyu scrambles forward, face lit up with a smile, well, he could call it cute. Almost. Mingyu’s blatant eagerness is amusing. 

 

“Hey,” Minghao says, schooling his expression into something warmer.  

 

“Hi,” Mingyu ducks his head and giggles.

 

“Are you bad at carrying on normal conversations with guys too?" Minghao asks, leaning back in his seat. "Because if you are it's gonna be a long semester."

 

Mingyu shakes his head in denial, pouting like he’s offended Minghao would imply that. “I’m just new to flirting with guys, I told you that. Also… I’m sorry about my roommate.”

 

Minghao tenses up a little at that. It’s hard to shake off the feeling the whole school knows about him because really, the population of Asian transgender art students consists of just one: Xu Minghao. When he’s not in the studio, he’s volunteering at the LGBT center on campus. Mingyu, on the other hand, is a frat boy; Minghao’s few interactions with them have never been pleasant. He doesn’t think Mingyu would try anything though, not in a classroom at least. Alternatively, Mingyu’s just really oblivious. Like a husky, which for all their resemblance to wolves, don’t hold a candle up to them in the intelligence department. 

 

Mingyu looks like he’s going to say something but the professor steps up to begin the class and Minghao’s relieved. For a second he was worried Mingyu was going to say something that would end up making Minghao  _ actually  _ apply the word regret to this situation. On top of that, he’d have to sit next to Mingyu for the whole semester too. 

 

Minghao tries to tune Mingyu out for the rest of the lesson. He really, truly tries, taking down notes and annotating his copy of the syllabus but Mingyu’s shameless about the way he checks Minghao out and maybe Minghao’s a little bit flattered. He didn’t even put in that much effort into getting dressed today.    
  
“Would it be weird if I asked for you number?” Mingyu blurts out at the end of their lecture as Minghao puts his stuff away. 

 

Minghao pauses, stares at Mingyu. “What do you want it for?”

 

“I just didn’t get it before,” Mingyu pouts. 

 

Minghao tosses his bag over his shoulder, crossing his arms. “I’m thinking about it.”

 

“I won’t do anything weird! You’re just kinda cool. I won’t text you when I’m drunk or anything.”

 

Minghao wants to laugh. He wishes his worries were more along the line of Mingyu texting him when he’s drunk, wishes things could be that easy. Mingyu’s still pouting and Minghao’s left wondering exactly how many people Mingyu has charmed just like this. He’s certainly attractive but that alone isn’t enough for Minghao to give up his number. 

 

“You sure you’re not going to read whatever I say to your bros as a joke?” 

 

It comes out sounding sharper, more accusatory than Minghao intended, but if Mingyu’s fucking around he hopes it’s enough for Mingyu to pick up that’s he’s not interested in being fucked with. He walks past Mingyu when he doesn’t say anything and wishes he’s surprised when he hears Mingyu’s footsteps behind him, catching up with Minghao easily. He’s stubbornly persistent. 

 

“What do you mean?” Mingyu looks puzzled, like the idea never crossed his mind. “I’d never do anything like that. Scout’s promise.” 

 

Minghao snorts, pushing the door open. He thinks he has an answer to his earlier question -- Mingyu is just oblivious. Which is why Minghao might as well tell him before they get closer which leads to false expectations which leads to Minghao picking up the pieces. Again. 

 

“No offense, Mingyu, but you don’t seem like the type to hang around with trans art students to me.”   
  


Minghao can see the moment Mingyu registers what he’s said, shooting him a glare when Mingyu still follows him out of the classroom. 

 

“I didn’t know about that,” Mingyu confesses. 

 

It’s enough to make Minghao pause. Minghao doesn’t have time to unpack how Mingyu’s confession makes him feel -- knowing that Mingyu’s seeking him out just because he wants to be something to Minghao, because he finds Minghao attractive and not because he’s trying to be an asshole. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re looking for,” Minghao hedges. 

 

“Just to get to know you.” Minghao barely knows Mingyu, but if one thing is clear, it’s how he’s an open book, and all Minghao has to do is read him. 

 

“Fine,” he relents, digging his phone out and handing it to Mingyu. 

 

“Really?” Mingyu’s voice is tinged with disbelief, grinning wide as he punches his number in. His smile is infectious, makes Minghao grin too, even if it’s softer. 

 

“It’s only because I’m pretty sure I could beat your ass,” Minghao warns.

 

Mingyu’s grin gets wider. “I know.” 

 

“Don’t follow me home,” Minghao teases.

 

He doesn’t wait to listen to Mingyu’s protests -- he’s running late for his next class. Minghao glances down at his phone, snorting at the fact that Mingyu’s saved his number with a puppy emoji next to it. 

 

What kind of feelings do you attach to a boy you made out with at a party, on your own terms? It’s not regret. 

 

Maybe it’s anticipation. 

 

***

 

No one’s surprised that Minghao’s sleeping with Mingyu. Okay, well, maybe  _ Mingyu  _ is surprised Minghao’s sleeping with him but all things considered, Mingyu’s sweet and attractive. It was bound to happen eventually, the air between them always humming with tension. At some point working on the Children’s Lit paper due at the end of the term became an excuse for Minghao to invite Mingyu over to fuck but it works for both of them.

 

After the first time they slept together and Mingyu offered to cook for Minghao, like they’re dating each other or something, Minghao’s tried to keep it casual. Holds Mingyu at arm's length because, for all he pretends to be detached and casual, it remains that: pretense. Minghao wants something that’s all-encompassing. He’s just not sure he can find it with a frat boy. And yet here he is, letting his guard down, letting Mingyu sleep in his bed after Minghao wrung an orgasm out of him with a vibrator.

 

It’s nice watching the light play across Mingyu’s face, even more handsome when he’s asleep, casting an orange glow into his bedroom. He doesn’t know how much time passes in that daze, until Mingyu’s stirring awake and smiling down at him. His brows are raised in question and Minghao’s trying to find an excuse for his behaviour. 

 

“The light was really good,” Minghao says. The words taste like a lie. He was just enjoying watching Mingyu in his sleep, like a creep.

 

“Here, the light would make a good picture,” Minghao says, holding his phone above them, taking pictures until he’s satisfied with them. He doesn’t say anything about the fact that Mingyu’s looking at him and not the camera lens in half of them, and doesn’t try to think about how it makes him feel like he’s been punched in the solar plexus.

 

The facts are that pictures do not lie. And in these pictures, Mingyu smiling fondly at him, the two of them bare-chested and the sheets rumpled around them, it speaks more of the intimacy between them that Minghao’s trying not to name. Give it a name and it becomes real. So he chooses not to name it, forces Mingyu into clothes and gets their books out again. They actually get some work done before Minghao decides it’s time for Mingyu to leave, feeling like the whole day has been an out-of-body experience. Maybe the weed they smoked earlier was bad or something.

 

Minghao’s fine with letting Mingyu see himself out, God knows he’s done it before and another nap sounds so very tempting but then he hears Seokmin’s characteristic yelp and jerks upright. It’s possible Minghao’s been consciously keeping his fuck buddy away from his roommate, but he has a reason. Hearing the low murmur of Mingyu and Seokmin’s voices is enough to get him out of bed, leaning against the doorframe and watching Mingyu and Seokmin talk. The thing about Seokmin is that he can converse with a rock and leave the rock charmed; it’s no different with Mingyu, already grinning at Seokmin like they’re long lost friends.

 

“Minghao’s been hiding you from me, I’m pretty sure. He only invites you over when I’m busy.” Seokmin says.

 

“That’s not true,” Minghao interjects, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t trying to hide Mingyu.”

 

“Then why am I only meeting him now?” Seokmin says, pouting at Minghao.

 

“I didn’t think you’d wanna listen in,” Minghao says. Seokmin laughs and shakes his head, and it’s only 10 years of friendship that keeps Minghao from crossing the room and strangling Seokmin with his bare hands.

 

“I should at least get to meet your smash bro! That’s my right as your best friend,” Seokmin says, throwing his arm around Mingyu’s side. Seokmin doesn’t miss the way Minghao’s eyes narrow at the gesture and his grin turns teasing, even as Mingyu puts his own arm around Seokmin.

Minghao’s not jealous. Really, he isn’t.

 

“Smash bro?” Mingyu asks.

 

“It’s way better than ‘fuck buddy’ isn’t it? Me and Soonyoung came up with it. It’s gonna catch on, I think.”

 

“It won’t,” Minghao says, rolling his eyes. He’s not really as annoyed as he’s pretending to be.

 

“I think it might,” Mingyu teases and Minghao glares at him instead.

 

“Weren’t you going home?” He asks.

 

“I should,” Mingyu says, patting Seokmin’s shoulder before stepping away with a smile still on his face. “It was cool to meet you though.”

 

“You too!” Seokmin says, returning to his food, the only thing he loves more than Jeonghan. “I’ll make sure Minghao invites you over during regular business hours next time. Maybe when we watch a movie or something.”

 

Mingyu glances up at Minghao with something like hope and Minghao’s heart fissures open a little.

 

“We’ll see,” Minghao says, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

 

He doesn’t miss the way Mingyu’s face brightens up at his response. Tries to ignore the way his own heart beats faster, the fucking traitor. 

 

“So why have you been hiding him from me?” Seokmin asks as soon as the door swings shut behind Mingyu, grinning up at Minghao.

 

Minghao groans and takes the seat across him. “I’m sure you don’t want to listen to me when I’m getting fucked.”

 

“I own earphones, Minghao. Like any adult in college. Besides, I’m way louder than you and you don’t see  _ me _ kicking you out any time I want Jeonghan to fuck me.”

 

“That’s because you’re an exhibitionist,” Minghao snarks back, snorting. 

 

It’s true – Seokmin is loud in every aspect of his life, and it’s unsurprising that it extends to his sex life as well. It’s just that Minghao doesn’t know what to tell Seokmin, doesn’t know what Seokmin expects. The thing about them being friends for as long as they have is that Seokmin can read him all too well but refrains from doing so for Minghao’s benefit.

 

“He’s a frat boy,” Minghao blurts out.

 

Seokmin continues eating, raising a brow in a gesture for him to continue.

 

“I don’t think he wants his bros to know he’s hooking up with a trans art student.” It’s hard to keep the sharp bitterness out of his voice and Seokmin doesn’t miss it.

 

Minghao doesn’t like talking about his insecurities, but it’s this that gnaws at him persistently, burrowing under his skin like an itch he can’t scratch, afraid that all the ways Mingyu opens up to him when they’re together is something reserved only for private spaces. And then Mingyu goes home and cracks jokes at Minghao’s expense, which is a prospect that sucks, but wouldn’t be the first time Minghao’s had to deal with an asshole.

 

Mingyu’s just a bit too sweet to do that though. Minghao wants to believe that.

 

“Have you talked to him about that?” Seokmin asks, gaze pointed, expression serious.

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

“Why, indeed,” Seokmin says, sighing. “If you don’t invite him to our next movie night, I’m doing it.”

 

Minghao wouldn’t put it past him, but he’s hoping it doesn’t come down to it.

 

It probably will though, because Minghao is Minghao and the only person who knows him as well as Seokmin does is Junhui, miles away. 

 

***

 

Despite the way Mingyu holds himself, despite the fact that he’s in a frat, it’s always interesting to see the way he responds to Minghao’s suggestions. One would think that being part of a frat meant you were exposed to a life that had more than the average amount of parties and the recreational substances that come with it but Mingyu is… well he’s surprisingly straight-laced. Shy, even. It feels a bit like Minghao’s corrupting him sometimes, but if Mingyu’s not complaining, then Minghao’s going to keep doing it, taking as many firsts as he can from Mingyu.

 

For one, he likes getting Mingyu high. If Mingyu’s pliant post-orgasm, he’s downright lazy when he’s high, clinging to Minghao and trading sloppy kisses, easily distracted by the lightest touch. The last time they’d gotten high together, Mingyu had asked Minghao to sit on his face. This time, however, goes a little bit differently.

 

“I want you to fuck me,” Mingyu mumbles against his shoulder, teeth scraping across the skin.

 

Minghao can feel the blood rush from his head to his pussy at the idea of Mingyu on his hands and knees, Minghao fucking him with one of his strap ons. He’s not sure if that’s what Mingyu wants, however.

 

“What do you mean?” Minghao pinches Mingyu’s thigh, Mingyu yelping and pulling away to pout at him.

 

“Like fuck me,” Mingyu refuses to meet his eyes, and it’s endearing how embarrassed he gets when it comes to talking about what it wants.

 

Which makes it all the more rewarding when Minghao pries it out of him, uses it against him whenever they fuck. Like the time Minghao had learned Mingyu was into being choked, and used it against him every time after.

 

“I fuck you,” Minghao laughs.

 

“No, like…” Mingyu trails off and Minghao raises an eyebrow.

 

“Like?” He asks

 

“Like use one of your vibrators on me,” Mingyu blurts out. “ _ In _ me.” He stresses.

 

Minghao stares at Mingyu a moment too long, watching Mingyu’s blush spread from his cheeks to his chest. Minghao surges forward to pull Mingyu into a kiss, biting down on his lower lip and swallowing Mingyu’s groans, rolling his hips against Mingyu’s half-hard cock.

 

“Not today,” Minghao murmurs, pulling away from their kiss. “We’re high and you might change your mind.”

 

Mingyu whines in disappointment and Minghao tugs at his hair, shutting Mingyu up easily. “I’ll fuck you, don’t worry. I promise.”

 

“Okay.” Mingyu pouts. “Can you sit on my face instead?”

 

Minghao laughs at that, pulling his shirt off and pushing Mingyu onto his back.

 

***

 

When you’re sober happens a week later, with Minghao pressing Mingyu down into his mattress and kissing him breathless before pulling away, Mingyu whining in discontent and trying to follow him.

 

“Stay there if you want me to fuck you, I promise it’s gonna be fun,” Minghao teases.

 

Mingyu swallows, watching with poorly disguised curiosity as Minghao fishes his harness out from the depth of his closet, snapping his favourite dildo onto it, dark red and curved at the tip. Mingyu seems to have realized what’s happening when Minghao climbs back onto the bed, sliding up to kiss Mingyu again.

 

There’s this look Mingyu gets sometimes, where his mouth drops open and he fixates on Minghao’s mouth, Minghao’s hand and right now, it’s Minghao dick, Mingyu reaching out tentatively to wrap his fingers around the toy.

 

“Um,” Mingyu says, Minghao smirking down at him.

 

“You’ve had people fuck you before right?” Minghao asks, dragging his nails along the inside of Mingyu’s thigh.

 

Mingyu’s eyes roll back, head thrown back to expose the line of his neck, hand still wrapped around the toy and Minghao will never tire of this, never tire of the way even the lightest of touches makes Mingyu react like he’s going to climb clean out of his skin. Minghao pinches his thigh to get him to focus, repeating the question.

 

He looks hesitant for a moment, brows furrowed and biting down on his lip. “Not with something like that.”

 

Minghao feels a brief flash of guilt, maybe he should’ve worked Mingyu up to this, but then again, Minghao’s been fingering Mingyu open regularly since they began hooking up. It’s about time Minghao fucks him, and Mingyu did ask for it. Instead he laughs, bending over to kiss Mingyu again.

 

“Don’t worry,” Minghao says, not missing the way Mingyu twitches under him, the way he’s subtly rocking his hips up. “I’ll take care of you.”

 

Something crosses Mingyu’s face for a moment before he rolls his eyes, shoving at Minghao’s shoulder. “Get on with it then.”

 

“So much for romance,” Minghao sighs out, rocking his hips so the toy rubs against Mingyu’s half-hard cock through his boxers. “Would you prefer I flip you over and really give it to you?”

 

Mingyu flushes, gaping at Minghao even as Minghao continues rubbing the dildo against him. He likes seeing Mingyu like this – he’s barely touched him but Mingyu already looks like a wreck. Mingyu pushes his hips up into friction, whining.

 

“Please just touch me,” Mingyu gasps out, reaching out to pull Minghao closer.

 

“Only because you said please,” Minghao says, laughing as he grabs the lube from his nightstand.

 

Mingyu nearly kicks Minghao in the process of taking his boxers off, sitting up and pulling Minghao’s tank top as well. Minghao fists a hand in Mingyu’s hair, feels Mingyu shiver against him more than he sees it, and then he’s hauling Mingyu in for another kiss. Mingyu’s fingers skate up Minghao’s abdomen, and then his thumb is pressing into one of Minghao’s nipples, flicking the ring hanging from it, sending a rush of heat through Minghao.

 

Mingyu grins against his mouth, giving both rings a slight tug, Minghao arching into the sensation and rocking down against Mingyu. Minghao can tell Mingyu’s getting carried away with playing with his piercings and Minghao knows if he lets this continue, Mingyu’s going to end up eating Minghao out instead of Minghao fucking him. He pushes Mingyu back against the bed, shaking his head fondly.

 

“It’s okay if this is your first time,” he runs a hand up Mingyu’s thigh, along the cleft of his ass, rubbing the pad of his thumb against his hole. It sends a thrill through him actually – the idea that he’s the one fucking Mingyu.

 

“It’s not,” Mingyu groans out, angling his hips towards Minghao’s fingers.

 

Minghao smiles, ducks forward to suck a hickey into Mingyu’s collarbone, a continuous stream of noise escaping Mingyu’s mouth. He pulls away when Mingyu starts angling his hips up for friction, glaring at Minghao when he does. Minghao grins, grabbing the lube, smirking when Mingyu realizes what he’s holding and spread his legs further apart, eager as always. Mingyu hisses when Minghao rubs the tips of his lube slicked fingers against his rim, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s easy to sink one finger into Mingyu, Minghao rubbing circles into his inner thigh with his free hand, keeping Mingyu’s legs spread open.

 

“There you go,” he coaxes when he adds a second finger, Mingyu groaning.

 

Around him, Mingyu is tight and hot, and Minghao can’t wait to sink into him, to fuck the coherence out of him. Minghao scissors his fingers apart, fucking them in and out slowly, gently, only because it’s fun seeing Mingyu get riled up under him. Mingyu’s body is humming with tension, his feet sliding against the sheets helplessly when Minghao finds his prostate, angling his fingers to continue brushing up against it.

 

“Fuck me,” Mingyu whines, nudging Minghao.

 

“Impatient,” Minghao says, even as he continues fingering Mingyu open, adding a third finger and watching how Mingyu takes it, head thrown back, hands fisting in the sheets.

 

It’s curiosity more than anything else that makes Minghao swat Mingyu’s thigh lightly, not missing the way Mingyu’s cock twitches against his stomach or the way he clenches around Minghao’s fingers.

 

“You like that too?” Minghao asks.

 

Mingyu’s lips part around a groan before he nods frantically, trying his best to ride Minghao’s fingers. “You don’t have to be  _ that _ careful with me.”

 

Minghao chuckles, pulling his fingers out, tapping Mingyu’s side. “On your knees, come on.”

 

Mingyu moves obediently, pulling one of Minghao’s pillows to support his chest. Minghao’s fingers itch for his camera for a moment – the arch of Mingyu’s back in the light of the afternoon makes something pull tight in Minghao’s gut, makes him lean down and trace his tongue around Mingyu’s rim. Mingyu whimpers and Minghao takes it as a cue to keep going, spreading him open and pushing his tongue in, fucking him with it slowly, guiding an overly excited Mingyu in rocking his hips along to the same rhythm. The noise Mingyu makes when Minghao pushes in a finger alongside his finger is something he wants to keep hearing, Mingyu’s legs sliding further apart.

 

“I thought you were gonna fuck me,” Mingyu says, glancing at Minghao over his shoulder.

 

Minghao raises a brow, spanking Mingyu’s ass again, smiling when Mingyu yelps. If it’s what Mingyu wants though, it’s what he’ll get, Minghao spreading lube across the surface of the toy, Mingyu watching him from over his shoulder with his lips parted. Minghao wants to see what Mingyu would look like with his mouth wrapped around the dildo, saves it in the back of his mind for the next time they do this.

 

Mingyu groans when Minghao pushes the head past his rim, huffing out little sounds as Minghao continues pressing in slowly until his hips are flush against Mingyu’s ass. Mingyu’s gorgeous enough on a regular day but there’s something so _ right _ about him on his hands and knees for Minghao, his dildo buried in Mingyu. He reaches out to brush the nape of Mingyu’s neck, Mingyu groaning at how the angle probably has him feeling fuller.

 

“Good?” Minghao asks, Mingyu lifting his head to nod.

 

It takes Mingyu a while to adjust, Minghao rubbing comforting circles into his back the whole time. He doesn’t move until Mingyu begins pushing his hips back, Minghao taking the hint and pulling out until the tip is all that’s still inside before fucking back into Mingyu, the noise of their hips slapping together loud. Mingyu chokes on an inhale, Minghao picking up a harsh pace.

 

Mingyu whines when Minghao grinds their hips together, the friction of the harness against Minghao’s pussy only serving to build up his own arousal. Underneath him, Mingyu arches his back, pushing him ass out further when Minghao spanks his ass playfully, rocking his hips back against Minghao’s. Minghao bottoms out, reaching out to grasp Mingyu’s shoulder and pull him against his chest, forcing him to sit up on his knees. The sound he makes when Minghao wraps his arms around him and fucks into him at a faster pace sounds like it’s been punched out of him, Mingyu hooking an arm around Minghao’s neck.

 

The position lets Minghao toy with Mingyu’s nipples, Mingyu leaning his head back onto Minghao’s shoulder, more noise escaping his mouth when Minghao’s mouth latches onto the side of his neck. Mingyu’s offering himself up to Minghao on a silver platter and he’s going to take all of it.

 

“Should get you a gag for next time,” Minghao says, his voice muffled by Mingyu’s skin.

 

Mingyu groans, trying his best to push his hips back despite the fact that he has no real leverage in this position.

 

“Feel good? Or am I still being too careful?”

 

Mingyu barely has time to process the question before Minghao pushes him forward, his cheek pressed against the mattress, Minghao’s hands bracketing his hips as he pulls Mingyu back on each thrust. Minghao leans forward, wrapping a hand around Mingyu’s cock, Mingyu’s hands clawing uselessly at the sheets. Mingyu comes with a few flicks of Minghao’s wrist and a loud groan that tapers into whimpers when Minghao continues fucking him through his orgasm. He’s not surprised when he lets go of Mingyu and he collapses into a boneless heap, Minghao giggling as he leans over Mingyu’s back and kisses the nape of his neck.

 

“You good?” he asks, nudging Mingyu on his side so he can plaster himself to Mingyu’s back.

 

“Gimme a second and I’ll return the favor,” Mingyu pants out.

 

“You don’t have to,” Minghao smiles.

 

The scary thing is that it’s true: he doesn’t mind not getting an orgasm in return. Watching Mingyu being pushed to the brink of coherence was reward enough, and he’s itching to do it again. Except Mingyu’s turning around to face him, pulling him in for a kiss even as his hands drop to the harness, trying to get it off. Minghao smiles into the kiss, pushing Mingyu’s hands away to undo the straps himself, wiggling out of the harness and pushing it aside. For all that Mingyu takes, he gives just as good, laying on his side, one hand between Minghao’s legs, rubbing his clit. Minghao’s thighs are spread apart for Mingyu’s hand, mouth open and gasping as he rocks into the movement.

 

“Yeah, fuck,” Minghao mumbles, gripping Mingyu’s wrist, nails digging into his skin. Mingyu slips in one finger, then two, spreading them apart. Minghao’s chest feels tight with the need to come, rocking his hips into Mingyu’s movements, comes with Mingyu’s thumb rubbing tight circles on his clit and two fingers fucking him with a slick noise that fills up the room, the silence between them, punctuated with Minghao’s gasps.

 

When Minghao pushes Mingyu’s hand away, he watches as Mingyu brings his hands up to his mouth, licking his fingers clean and suddenly Minghao’s tempted for  another round, to sit on Mingyu’s face because Mingyu  _ loves _ it when Minghao does that.

 

Except they actually have work to do, and maybe inviting Mingyu over to study every time Mingyu isn’t home has already become synonymous with either one of them getting fucked out. Minghao’s grades are on the line.

 

“If we don’t actually start studying when we say we will my grades are gonna go to hell,” Minghao says, arching into a stretch, groaning when his spine pops.

 

Mingyu laughs, and Minghao doesn’t think it’s so bad that they spend the next hour just dozing in his bed.  

  
  


***

 

At Seokmin’s insistence, Minghao ends up inviting Mingyu to their next movie night. He shows up with 3 different family sized bags of chips, shrugging when Minghao nags him about the nutritional value of chips. Minghao loses the argument when Seokmin and Soonyoung side with Mingyu, rolling his eyes even as he empties the chips into a bowl. 

 

Jeonghan shows up with drinks for everyone and immediately declares it gives him the right to pick their movie, much to Minghao’s distaste. If it were up to Jeonghan alone, they’d be watching some cliche rom-com  _ or  _ a terrible action flick. It takes them a while to decide what movie to watch but Jeonghan and Minghao finally settle on The Shape of Water. It’s not so bad, Minghao thinks, to have Mingyu on one side and Soonyoung on the other. 

 

If Minghao’s being honest with himself, it’s nice to have Mingyu solid and warm next to him. Movie nights haven’t been quite the same since Seokmin started dating Jeonghan; he loves Seokmin, and is happy he’s found Jeonghan, but watching them can make anyone feel like they’re intruding. Watching them also makes him feel like he should be looking for something like, a relationship so easy it’s like a natural process, inhale, exhale, be in love. Maybe, just maybe, Minghao needs to reexamine where he stands with Mingyu, because his presence is making him feel like a jar of shaken up bees, tense, oddly excited. Distantly, he knows he’s breaking the rules of their agreement. 

 

The movie is as compelling as the reviews promised it would be and Mingyu’s arm is draped around his shoulders, Minghao subconsciously leaning against his side. If he tips his head back a little, he’ll be able to rest his head on Mingyu’s shoulder. It’s hard to focus on the movie again when Minghao is hyper-aware of all the points of contact between them, the way Mingyu smells like sandalwood and something else.

 

“I bet the old guy dies,” Minghao whispers. Next to him, Soonyoung pouts at Minghao.    
  


“I don’t think so,” Mingyu says, bringing his mouth close to Minghao’s ear. “He’s the one narrating, isn’t he?”   
  


“You think they’re all gonna live?” Minghao asks. 

 

“Yeah,” he says. 

 

Minghao hums, turning back to the movie; of course, Mingyu thinks everyone survives. Mingyu has continued to subvert Minghao’s expectation of frat boys, and his endless optimism is just another thing that endears him. He’s sad when the movie ends and Mingyu has to leave, considers asking Mingyu to stay over under the pretense that they can compete with Seokmin and Jeonghan to see who makes more noise. Feels a little bit lonelier when he curls up under his comforter and actually has to listen in to Seokmin singing for Jeonghan. It’s hard to keep things casual when Mingyu is Mingyu, so very good at sneaking past every layer of defense Minghao has put up. It’s just time to put up another layer, Minghao supposes, and hope that Mingyu doesn’t get past that too. 

 

Because Minghao doesn’t know what will happen if he does. 

 

***

 

Seokmin’s infernally noisy. Coupled with the fact that he’s a music major, it makes being around him too much at times. Right now, he’s practicing for one of his final evaluations. Minghao was alright with it the first ten times, but there’s only so many times one can listen to Seokmin repeating some lyrics about an unrequited love in his falsetto before it gets annoying. On top of that, Minghao has his own finals to study for.

  
  
He texts Mingyu about it, surprised when Mingyu offers up the frat house to study, laughing when Mingyu sends him a text about the offer being strictly about studying only.    
  


(little 8): I can go to the library so you don’t have to explain anything   
  


Minghao hits send before he can think about how bitter the text comes off. The library is too crowded but visiting Mingyu at the frat house seems a little bit too much, especially when Minghao is under the impression that Mingyu’s keeping their relationship on the down low.    
  


(mingyu): my place is closer, right? Just come here. No one will bother you, promise.   
  


_ Fuck it _ , Minghao thinks. There’s probably no one there, which is why Mingyu’s inviting him. And it is closer, probably a whole lot quieter than the library too. He gets dressed, because if he’s going to be bumping into frat boys, the least he could do is put on his armor for it. He gets to the frat house in ten minutes, knocking nervously on the door, stepping back and preparing himself to meet anyone other than Mingyu.    
  


The relief that floods his system when Mingyu answers the door with a grin nearly has him sighing out.   
  


“Hey,” he says, inviting Minghao into the house.   


 

“This place looks better when there’s not alcohol on every surface,” Minghao says, looking around with a little laugh, until he catches sight of another boy lounging on the sofa.    


 

Minghao stares at him, tries not to show his discomfort when the boy’s smile turns into something teasing, preparing himself for barbed words.    


 

“Hi,” he says when Minghao doesn’t make a move to say anything. Minghao nods his head in acknowledgement, one of his hands curling into a fist over the strap of his bag. He wants to run out the door. “You’re in Soonyoung’s dance crew, right?”   


 

“I’m Minghao, yeah.” 

  
  
“Cool. I’m Seungcheol.” He smiles in a way that Minghao’s sure could charm anyone else, boyish, his dimples showing. It does nothing to help Minghao relax.

  
  
Seungcheol turns to Mingyu. “Make sure you keep it down, yeah? I think Wonu’s finally asleep.” 

  
  
“We’re just studying,” Mingyu says, petulant, whiny, pushing Minghao up the stairs ahead of him. Seungcheol’s giggles follow them. 

  
  
“Sorry,” Mingyu says after a moment, following Minghao up the stairs and into his room. “Seungcheol’s the president… he sticks his nose in everything.”

  
  
Minghao doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to spread his work out across Mingyu’s floor. It’s quiet and comfortable, Mingyu’s roommate noticeably absent. Sometimes Minghao wonders what their relationship would be like if Mingyu’s roommate didn’t walk in on him the first time they met. Minghao grabs one of Mingyu’s pillows for his back, distantly notes how it smells like Mingyu’s perfume.

  
  
“Do you mind if I play some music?” Minghao asks. 

  
  
“Go for it,” Mingyu says, smiling.

  
  
“I won’t wake anyone up?” Minghao teases, Mingyu flushing a pretty pink color. 

  
  
“Wonwoo sleeps like the dead,” Mingyu says, shaking his head. 

 

At some point, Minghao gives up on studying, choosing to instead review his recorded performances. It’s technically homework since he has the recital coming up soon, and he’s still frustrated with how his routines are turning out. Mingyu’s given up on studying too, sitting next to Minghao and watching the snippets with him.

 

“You’re really good,” Mingyu offers, leaning against Minghao’s shoulder. Minghao snorts, sinking down a little so Mingyu can lean on him more comfortably.

 

“I used to be better… I hurt my shoulder a while ago and it’s still kinda stiff sometimes.”

 

“Is it okay now?” Mingyu asks, brows furrowing in concern.

 

“Just sore,” Minghao says, rolling the shoulder in question. “A little bit more lately because of all the practice.”

 

“You should let me massage it for you,” Mingyu offers, cheeks coloring when he realizes he’s just blurted it out.

 

“ _ You  _ said we’d be actually studying.  _ And _ Seungcheol told us to keep quiet,” Minghao teases, just because he likes seeing Mingyu flustered.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Mingyu whines. “I’m really good, and I’ll make it feel better.”

 

Minghao sighs, setting his laptop aside with a sigh, pushing himself up to sit on the bed. “Get fresh and I’m leaving.”

 

Minghao doesn’t mean it. Not entirely, at least. The idea of Mingyu giving him a shoulder massage and eating him out is tempting and Minghao would take him up on it if they were at his place. Minghao feels the mattress sink under Mingyu’s weight as he gets on his knees behind Minghao.

 

“It’s your left one, right?” Mingyu asks, running his fingers along it. Minghao barely tamps down the instinct to shiver.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Mingyu clears his throat, pressing his thumbs into and rubbing slow circles on Minghao’s back, following the line of his neck. The pressure is good, better when he digs his fingers into the back of Minghao’s left shoulder, kneading the knotted muscle and trying to work it out. Minghao groans, his head tipping forward as Mingyu continues working at his shoulder.

 

“Does it hurt?” Mingyu asks.

 

“Feels good,” Minghao groans out.

 

Minghao’s practically melting into his touch, sighing when Mingyu kneads at the muscles just under his shoulder blade. The only thing that could make this better is if he could feel Mingyu’s warm hands on his skin instead of through the barrier of two shirts. Preferably with deep heat cream too, because he’s insanely good at massaging the tenseness out of Minghao’s muscles. Instead of booking an appointment with his acupuncturist after his next recital, he’s going to visit Mingyu.

 

His head jerks up when the door to Mingyu’s room opens, tensing up; Mingyu’s roommate so absorbed in his music he doesn’t realize there’s two people on Mingyu’s bed. Minghao wants to laugh – it’s not the first time that his roommate has walked in at the wrong moment. Right now, he really wants Mingyu’s hands back at kneading his muscles.

 

“Oh, hey,” Hansol says when he finally notices them, a wide smile spreading across his face. “You’re the guy from the beginning of the year.”

 

“Minghao,” he says sharply. All the tenseness that Mingyu had massaged out of him comes flooding back.

 

Hansol goes about his business but Minghao’s still waiting for the shoe to drop. Mingyu pulls away from Minghao’s back.

 

“Hopefully that feels better,” he sounds regretful.

 

“It’s fine,” Minghao says, casting nervous glances in Hansol’s direction. “I should go home.”

 

“We can go back to studying,” Mingyu interjects quickly.

 

“You don’t gotta leave for me,” Hansol says. “Seungcheol wants me to follow him somewhere.”

 

It helps ease the tight knot in his chest, just a little.

 

Behind him, Mingyu snorts. “Do you even remember what it is?”

 

Hansol pauses, lifting his head to glare at the ceiling for just a moment before laughing. “No idea.”

 

“I really don’t have to stay.”

 

“You’ll have the place to yourself, I think,” Hansol says, finally finding what he’s looking for. “Unless Wonwoo is still asleep.”

 

He stuffs it into his bag and finally meets Minghao’s eyes properly, his smile still broad and friendly.

 

“Gender is a construct anyway,” Hansol says. “If anyone gives you shit they’ll have to listen to Wonwoo read all his articles on human sexuality again.”

 

Minghao’s stunned for a moment, the bubble of laughter escaping him before he can even think of suppressing it, leaning his weight against Mingyu. Mingyu laughs with him and across them, Hansol looks extremely pleased with himself even as he waves and lets himself out.

 

He chooses to stay, but there’s a lot on his mind, even as he pretends to go through his work. Minghao’s preconceived notions about frat boys has stemmed from his previous interactions with them but the ones he’s met, Mingyu, Seungcheol, Hansol, even the guy Wonwoo everyone keeps talking about, they all seem decent. More than that, Minghao’s surprised that Mingyu has been introducing him to his brothers, not sneaking him around the house. It makes his chest ache with something like longing, something that  _ is  _ longing. He can’t remember the last time he dated someone who  _ didn’t _ want to keep him a secret.

 

“I thought it was a secret,” Minghao says, quietly.

 

“What secret?” Mingyu asks, looking at Minghao.

 

“You and me,” Minghao says, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t think you’d want anyone to know about it.”

 

“Was it supposed to be a secret?” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t come home and brag about my sex life or anything.”

 

“It’s not that, it’s…” Minghao bites his lower lip. “You let your friends know you’re sleeping with me.”

 

Mingyu finally catches up to what Minghao’s trying to say, mouth opening and closing. “Yeah. I don’t care about stuff like that.”

 

Minghao stares at Mingyu, wishes he could see through him, wishes he could see his intentions; Minghao might want Mingyu more than he’s allowed to. He looks back at his laptop instead.

 

“You should come to the final dance show,” Minghao offers. “You haven’t been to the others, right?”

 

He knows it’s a big step. He knows he’s crossing lines. He doesn’t care.

 

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, barely keeping the excitement out of his voice. Sometimes, Minghao thinks Mingyu wants him more than he should too.

 

Minghao smiles at him.

 

“I’ll be there,” Mingyu promises.

 

***

 

Minghao doesn’t want to talk about how seeing Mingyu with the girl makes him feel. It feels like they’re in a dance and for every step they take forward, there are another two steps that they take backward especially when he was just warming up to the idea that they could be something more than fuck buddies.

  
  
For what it’s worth he invited Mingyu to his dance recital. It’s supposed to mean something after Mingyu had said he wasn’t hiding what he was doing with Minghao, especially when Mingyu had followed him to the party afterward. Minghao’s  _ jealous _ , he realizes, the emotion bubbling up in him, cloying, clouding rational thought. 

  
  
They’re not exclusive. Mingyu can do whatever he wants,  _ whoever  _ he wants. Minghao leaves the party before he can get even more upset. Seokmin hadn’t tagged along which means he’s probably home and Minghao can needle him into watching some show with him and drinking a lot of wine. Then he can block Mingyu and go back to being slightly melodramatic, all while Seokmin needles him into talking to Mingyu. 

  
  
What he doesn’t count on is Mingyu following him. 

  
  
“Are you leaving?” Mingyu asks, out of breath. 

  
  
“Maybe,” Minghao says, stopping but not turning around. 

  
  
“Okay,” Mingyu says. “I can walk home with you. Or we could go get some food or something.”

  
  
“Just go back inside,” Minghao says, rolling his eyes now. “You were busy with someone else anyway.”

  
  
“I came to hang out with you,” Mingyu says, and he sounds pitiful, even if Minghao isn’t looking at him.

  
  
“Fine,” Minghao says cooly. “Come with me then.”

  
  
He’s still angry, still jealous, still can’t admit that he wants Mingyu to follow him. He begins walking home, Mingyu quiet even as if he follows Minghao, as if he can sense the hostility coming off him in waves. He tries to initiate conversation several times, gives up when Minghao continues to ignore him. 

  
  
He looks at Mingyu properly, for the first time since Minghao saw him dancing with the girl the second they enter his apartment, backs Mingyu up against the couch before pulling Mingyu down to kiss him, hot and hard. Like if he kisses Mingyu hard enough he would gain the ability to read Minghao’s mind, pick apart what Minghao wants. 

  
  
The way Mingyu goes along, parting his lips to welcome Minghao’s tongue, grabbing his hips to support their weight, it’s a good reminder that this, at the very least, belongs to Minghao. His fingers pull at Mingyu’s hair, his teeth pull at Mingyu’s lips, he pulls at Mingyu, tugging him along to him room. Minghao’s determined for them to stay attached, kisses Mingyu’s neck. 

  
  
Minghao pushes Mingyu back onto the bed, taking a second to admire just how flustered Mingyu already looks, climbing on top of him and straddling him. 

  
  
“What about Seokmin?” Mingyu asks hesitantly.

  
  
“Don’t care,” Minghao says, dragging his teeth down Mingyu’s neck.

  
  
Underneath him, Mingyu shivers. It’s another reminder of all the ways Minghao can hold Mingyu down, of the ways Mingyu  _ lets _ Minghao hold him down.

  
  
“Take your shirt off,” Minghao demands, sitting up just enough to let Mingyu do it, grinding his hips down against Mingyu.

  
  
Mingyu’s beautiful with his head tipped back; Minghao can’t resist dragging a hand along the side of neck, pressing against a blooming hickey, Mingyu trying not to groan. His hands slide up Minghao’s calves, up his thighs, squeezing his ass and pulling their hips together. Minghao rolls their hips together, groaning into the sensation, pushing Mingyu back against the bed when he tries to sit up. 

  
  
He doesn’t give up, sliding his hands under Minghao’s shirt and tugging it off. Minghao sighs out when Mingyu’s hands immediately go to his nipples, toying with his piercings like he doesn’t know what it does to Minghao. Minghao bats his hands away, reaching over to his nightstand and rooting in it for condoms. He shivers when Mingyu presses his mouth against his stomach, tongue on his skin, mouth sliding lower. 

  
  
Maybe he should sit on Mingyu’s face. Maybe, but he really, really wants to ride Mingyu. Keep him down. 

  
  
He drops the string of condoms he finds next on the bed, fisting a hand in Mingyu’s hair and pushing his head away, Mingyu whining in disappointment, pouting up at Minghao.

  
  
“You don’t want me to eat you out?” Minghao almost laughs. He figured out a long time ago that Mingyu’s more than content eating Minghao up and rutting against the mattress till he comes, but not today. 

  
  
“No,” he says, pulling Mingyu’s hand away and pinning his wrist over his head. 

  
  
Minghao presses down and Mingyu swallows, bringing his other arm up, fingers curled up into loose fists. He looks like being denied the opportunity to touch Minghao is killing him.  

  
  
“I’m gonna ride you and you’re going to be a good boy for me and stay just like that.”

 

Mingyu bites down on his lip and Minghao can see his resolve harden; Mingyu can be stubborn if he wants to be, can listen if he wants to.

 

“Got it?” Minghao asks, dragging his nails down Mingyu’s chest.

 

Mingyu nods, lifting into Minghao’s touch, resolutely not moving his hands. Minghao can feel his own irritation dissolve into anticipation, sitting up to wiggle Mingyu’s jeans off his hips. Mingyu tenses up, hissing when Minghao palms his cock through the fabric of his underwear, his free hand bracing his weight on Mingyu’s chest.

 

Mingyu doesn’t move, not until Minghao moves to slip his hand between his own legs, rolling down against them to alleviate the burning need. Mingyu jerks like he’s been branded, like he can’t stand the sight of Minghao touching himself when  _ he’s _ not allowed to.

 

“Down,” Minghao says, pushing back at Mingyu’s shoulder.

 

Mingyu huffs, eyes trained intently on Minghao peeling his underwear off and dragging his fingers through his folds. The skin on skin contact is better, has Minghao dipping his head as he sinks one finger into himself, then two, fucking himself with them. He can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed by the slick noise that fills the room. Under him, Mingyu whines, pushing his hips up to try and grind his cock against the back of Minghao’s thigh.

 

“Not having fun?” Minghao teases.

 

He’s not thinking when he pulls his hand away, his fingers still wet, pushing down on Mingyu’s plush lower lip. Mingyu barely stops to think about it either, leaning forward to close his mouth around them, sucking the fluids off his fingers. Minghao presses down on his tongue, forces his mouth open as he gathers saliva in his own mouth, lets it dribble into Mingyu’s mouth, watches him swallow it. His heart constricts in his chest when Mingyu presses a kiss to the tips of his fingers before he pulls them away, arms still resolutely above his head.

 

Minghao sits up on his knees again, working feverishly to pull Mingyu’s boxers past his ass, giggling when Mingyu jerks as his cock smacks against the bottom of his stomach. Minghao regains his composure quickly, and Mingyu loses his – moaning as Minghao wraps a hand around Mingyu’s cock, stroking it slowly, Mingyu jerking up into his hold.

 

“You’re being so good for me,” Minghao says, rolling the condom over Mingyu’s cock.

 

Under him Mingyu jerks, whines, his eyes blown out with desire.

 

“Stay just like that for me.”

 

Minghao lines his hips up with Mingyu’s, planting his palms on either side of Mingyu’s ribs to support his weight, groaning at he slides down. The stretch feels so good, Mingyu’s cock always feels so good. Underneath him, Mingyu fidgets, his muscles flexing with the urge not to move, his hands fisting the pillow under him, his mouth parted. Minghao gasps out when he slides down all the way, grinding in experimental circles, moaning again. He slides his hands up Mingyu’s chest, absentmindedly thumbing at his nipples as he lifts his hips up, swearing when he drops his weight down on Mingyu’s cock.

 

Minghao builds up the pace slowly, nails dragging over Mingyu’s skin, all the noise they’re making lost in the sound of the bedsprings.

 

“Minghao,” Mingyu whines at being denied. Minghao giggles, leaning forward to kiss Mingyu, pulling one of his arms around his waist.

 

“Do it,” Minghao mumbles against his mouth. “Fuck me. Make me feel good.”

 

It’s like something takes over Mingyu, pulling Minghao close and planting his feet on the bed, driving his hips up. His rhythm is frantic, desperate, like the short time he was made to stay still was too much for him, hands trying to touch every inch of Minghao’s body like he’s a man starved, like this is the first and last time he’ll be fucking Minghao. Mingyu groans when Minghao fists a hand in his hair and tugs, turns his head to press messy kisses against the skin of Minghao’s neck.

 

Minghao feels like he’s coasting on the edge of his orgasm, tense and wired, waiting to tip over, resting his forehead against Mingyu’s, each inhale jagged and ripping through him.

 

“Just like that, good boy, so fucking good  _ for _ me,  _ to  _ me,” Minghao pants out, grinding his hips down on every thrust.

 

Minghao groans – he wants to come,  _ needs  _ to, dropping one hand to his pussy and rubbing his clit in tight circles, gasping into Mingyu’s mouth. Mingyu swallows up all his sounds obediently, kissing any part of Minghao his mouth can reach.

 

“Good boy, good, so – I’m almost,” Minghao gasps out, pressing his face against the side of Mingyu’s neck, biting down on his shoulder.

 

Minghao’s only conscious of Mingyu, the hands on his skin, the way Mingyu’s still grinding up against him, the taste of Mingyu’s skin in his mouth, muffling the noise he makes when he comes, a rush that takes over his whole body. He’s still desperately grinding down on Mingyu, riding his orgasm out, murmuring praise of how good Mingyu was, how he can come, how he made Minghao feel so fucking good. Mingyu comes with a whine, body arching towards his, as if there’s a way for them to be closer than they are right now. They’re both a boneless pile of limbs when Mingyu pulls out, staggers to the bin to dispose the condom before flopping back onto the bed.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Mingyu asks.

 

In the dark, Minghao can be honest.

 

“No,” Minghao murmurs, pulling Mingyu closer and wrapping himself around Mingyu’s body.

 

He’s never let Mingyu stay the night before, but they’ve already broken all the rules. 

  
  
***

 

In all the time that they’ve been doing whatever it is they’re doing, Minghao’s come to learn a multitude of things about Mingyu. 

 

Despite his stature, Mingyu does as many things possible to make himself smaller. Outside of what he wears for presentations and his frat parties, Mingyu’s clothes are three sizes too big. He slouches in on himself, holds himself like he’s aware of the space he takes up and believes that he  _ can’t  _ have that space. 

 

He wears his heart on his sleeve, no, he readily gives his heart out, couples it with puppy dog eyes. Scratches at the door of  _ your  _ heart until you let him in,  _ doesn’t _ stop until you let him and then stays there as long as you’ll have him. 

 

For all his stubbornness with everything else, it’s also painfully easy to get him to listen. Mingyu hangs onto every word that comes out of Minghao’s mouth, snatches the words out of the air and holds it close to himself. In the bedroom, outside the bedroom, downright  _ desperate  _ for praise and attention at times. 

 

The only time Mingyu’s still is in his sleep; he wakes up in the same position he falls asleep in, and it’s only Minghao shifting around that changes it up. It makes it easy to realize when Mingyu wakes up because he tenses up under where Minghao is laying on his chest, Minghao’s fingers curled around his shoulder. He’s been listening to Mingyu’s heart beat the whole time, not that he would ever tell Mingyu that. 

 

Names the feeling. Locks it down. 

 

Mingyu keeps fidgeting under him.

 

“Has anyone ever told you that you think too loud?” Minghao asks. 

 

Mingyu tenses up again. “No,” he says hesitantly. Almost as if he’s expecting Minghao to admonish him for it. Not like Minghao could, not when the only words coming to tip of his tongue are words of adoration, fondness, the praise that Mingyu loves so very much. 

 

Minghao detangles himself, mourning the warmth even as he stretches his body out. He feels sore in the best way possible. Mingyu sits up as well, pushing his bangs away from his face. 

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Minghao says.

 

One of the other things about Mingyu that’s irritatingly endearing is that he can’t filter his thoughts sometimes. 

 

“I’m not sleeping with anyone else,” he says, a little too loud for the lazy morning that still hangs over them. 

  
“Okay?” He says. Inside, his heart is beating a little bit faster. He wished, certainly hoped, never really dared to dream. 

 

Mingyu sighs, shoulders slumping low. “I, um, I don’t do well with casual relationships. I suck at them.” 

 

“Aren’t no strings attached relationships the fratboy gold standard?” Minghao asks, a little sharp, a little pointed, even if he’s trying to keep the hostility out of his voice. 

  
“I don’t like it,” Mingyu repeats, staring at Minghao now. “I get attached to people and it ends up making me miserable.”

  
  
“You want us to stop.” He’s not asking.

 

It was bound to happen. At the end of the day, Mingyu’s just another fratboy. And of course Mingyu is the one to break it off, to run away when things get just a little bit past comfort. 

  
  
“I’m attached to you,” Mingyu confesses.

 

Minghao stiffens. Nothing prepared him for that. 

  
“I don’t wanna be seeing anyone else and if you hate dating or whatever you can just say so but I’m not good at this. I like you… I want there to be strings. I wanna meet your friends and go watch your dance events and hold your hand after class,” Mingyu steamrolls on. 

  
  
Minghao stares at him. He opens his mouth, then closes it, his eyes dropping to his lap. His heart is beating fast; this feels a little bit like teenage fever. Or maybe it’s a call to get their shit together, and actually get together. 

  
  
“Sorry,” Mingyu says, heaving himself up with a little groan, getting his clothes off the floor. 

 

“Okay,” Minghao says, and it’s quiet. “Fine,” he says, louder, almost demanding Mingyu to tell him no now that he’s agreed. 

 

“What?” Mingyu sounds shocked, one leg in his jeans. 

 

He looks silly, Minghao wants to say. Minghao wants to pull him back into bed. Minghao wants to hold him down and kiss him stupid. 

 

“We can have strings,” Minghao says, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his comforter. 

 

Mingyu misses the leg of his pants and stumbles forward, barely catches himself on the edge of the bed, face-to-face with Minghao. 

 

Stupid, Minghao wants to coo.

 

“For real?” Mingyu asks, and he sounds hesitant, surprised, hopeful,  _ wanting.  _

 

“You can meet my friends and hold my hand.”

 

“And tell people you’re my boyfriend?” Mingyu asks, a smile stretching across his face like the sun breaking free from the clouds. 

 

“Sure.” Minghao rolls his eyes, tries to downplay just how he feels like he’s about to burst free from himself. “Don’t mind dating if it’s you.”

 

Your body always betrays you though. Minghao is smiling wide, running his fingers through Mingyu’s hair and pulling him in to kiss him, slow and sweet, pulls him into the bed again to kiss him long and thorough. 

 

“I’m your boyfriend,” Mingyu whispers, giggling when he pulls away. 

 

Minghao laughs.

 

“Say it,” Mingyu demands, winds his arms around Minghao’s waist, kissing the line of his jaw. “Say ‘Kim Mingyu is my boyfriend.’”

 

Minghao laughs again. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call you a good boy instead?” Minghao teases, even as Mingyu whines in protest.

 

“Kim Mingyu is my boyfriend,” Minghao says, running his hands through Mingyu’s hair. 

 

“Kim Mingyu is my boyfriend,” he repeats, kissing Mingyu again, not missing the way Mingyu’s grip on his waist tightens.

 

“Kim Mingyu is my boyfriend,” Minghao murmurs, kissing his way down Mingyu’s chest.

 

And if Kim Mingyu is his boyfriend, Minghao thinks he has his hands full for a while. Wouldn’t have it any other way. Doesn’t regret it in the slightest. Learning experience and all that shit, right? Bare your heart, and get one in return. 

**Author's Note:**

> i am just a cat looking for pats~ please leave comments if you enjoyed reading this fic i cannot stress how much it motivates me to keep writing T____T. i also have a [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/lilting) now if you are interested in saying hi there ouo and I recently made a [public twt account](https://twitter.com/junseokhao).


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